CHAPTER XVII
The Fugitives in the Wilderness
Once more to the fugitives. The town left well behind, and the immediate danger of pursuit now past, the stimulus of live fear was removed, and Rava's spirit began to flag. She was feeling the weary length of the night with its never-ending plash, plash, plash, through the darkness, pelted by the rain, belabored by the wind, and seemingly going nowhere. There were few landmarks but ghostly trees and the innumerable small ditches, each, in the murk, so like those left behind that there seemed to her distressed and overwrought mind but a single one, presenting itself over and over again by some enchantment, to be crossed and recrossed until despair should bring them to earth. Her sodden garments clung to her, impeding every step. Her cloak, weighted by the rain, thrashed about by the gale, bore upon her as if made of lead, staggering her with its buffetings. The struggle was exhausting, and she already felt its effects. They rested frequently, Cristoval striving to stay the ebbing of her courage, but noting with grave concern her waning strength. At last, to his complete dismay, she gave up, weeping.
"Oh, Viracocha Cristoval," she sobbed, "I can go no farther! Leave me and save yourself. Alone, you can escape, but I can only be a fatal hindrance. Go, I pray you!"
The cavalier would have been less disturbed had a dozen soldiers sprung up before him, and would have known better what to do. "Oh, Holy Mother!" he groaned to himself, "look upon a helpless sinner and aid him now! A weeping girl in the middle of a heathen cornfield in the middle of a heathen rainy night, and not another woman within a league to run for!" He contemplated the dim, quivering form with an embarrassment exceeded only by his compassion.
"Go, Viracocha!" she urged, with a moan whose piteousness brought him to his senses.
"Why, God help me, child!" he exclaimed, impetuously. "I would as quickly think of leaving thee as of pulling the nose of the Pope! Come, now, chiquita mia, do not weep! Thou 'rt weary, I know—and cold. Well, I'll tell thee—we must be moving, thou knowest—and I'll carry thee for a space. Presently thou'lt be rested, then we'll walk again. Hush, now, little one!"
Without heeding her protests he lifted her and strode on with her in his arms. For some distance the girl wept quietly on his shoulder while he strove to soothe. The good Cristoval was as fatherly as if she had been his own, and before long her tears had subsided. But he was less cheerful than his words were cheering. There was importunate need of speed, and speed was impossible.
They kept on to the southward until an hour before the dawn. Their halts were infrequent now, but often the cavalier took his ward into his arms and carried her until she was able to struggle along beside him, half supported. At last they turned to the west, and within an hour were on the great road, going toward Guamachucho. They pushed on more rapidly and in silence, Cristoval preoccupied with the immediate future. He was debating, in the main, the policy of at once making themselves and the situation known to the natives of the valley, to secure their aid. He finally decided against it. He had no doubt of their willingness and loyalty, but danger lay in the nearness of Caxamalca. A suspicion on the part of the Spaniards that these people had knowledge of the fugitives would be warrant for an effort to extort it, and Cristoval was too well acquainted with Spanish methods to feel sure that the effort would be unsuccessful. Pizarro would not hesitate at any cruelty to gain the information, and the safest plan would be to leave no traces. Before twenty-four hours he had reason to be thankful for that decision.
The morning was now so near that the highway was no longer safe, and he had resolved to gain the foothills, when he became aware of a small group of buildings. The principal one, he observed, was a small tambo for herdsmen. They passed it cautiously, and were again in the open, unconscious of having been seen by an early riser. The man, a Spaniard, peered through the darkness at their shadowy forms, stood listening for a moment, then stepped after them on tiptoe. Shortly he paused and hearkened again. The sound of their steps ceased as they left the roadway, and with a grunt and grin he returned to the tambo.